


What's Wrong with Secretary Stark?

by AEDylan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BFF Arthur, Based on What's Wrong with Secretary Kim?, Cheeky Bastard Arthur, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Jealous Rhaegar, Lyanna is a hot commodity, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rhaegar is kind of an aloof and conceited a-hole, Shared Trauma, Sibling Rivalry, Tags Contain Spoilers, Viserys is the older brother, also Aerys is not mad, but do not be fooled, everybody is OOC, he's actually really nice, it's just a front
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16686979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEDylan/pseuds/AEDylan
Summary: Lyanna Stark decides to quit her job as Rhaegar Targaryen’s secretary and now, he’s left in a quandary.He tries wooing her back in his arms--er,employ--and that’s when she starts seeing him in a new light.Based on the K-Drama/webtoon, “What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim?”(I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m awful at summaries. But, please, just give it a try. TT^TT)





	1. Prologue

“With a net worth of 7.7 billion WGD*, Rhaegar Targaryen, fondly referred to by his bevy of admirers as the _Silver Prince_ , has been named World’s Most Eligible Bachelor for the third consecutive year.

"As Chief Executive Officer of Targaryen Group, Inc., he has been credited for the doubling of the company’s revenue since he assumed the exalted position only five years prior after his father’s, former CEO Aerys Targaryen’s, retirement.

"With such an accomplishment, it did not come as a surprise when he won both the highly coveted _CEO of the Year_ and _Young Professional of the Year_ awards.

“Apart from being renowned for his business acumen, he is also lauded for his charitable works and prodigious musical talent. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the man had also been blessed with exotic good looks and a sharp sense of fashion.

"The strikingly handsome heir of the multibillion-dragon corporation is rarely seen in anything less than elegant bespoke suits and—”

Arthur Dayne, Marketing Director of TGI and best friend to Rhaegar Targaryen since they were twelve, abruptly halted in his reading and burst out laughing. He’s been trying very hard to hold it back, but, apparently, he’s reached his limit.

“Oh, man, this is too much,” he said amid his laughter, wiping away tears from the corners of his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Exotic good looks and elegant bespoke suits? Whoever wrote these articles, they sure as Seven Hells got a huge hard-on for you. And I’m willing to bet that they were all written by Connie just hiding behind multiple pseudonyms. I mean, this one I’m reading right now is by someone named _J.C. Griffin_. Come on! Can the man be any more obvious?”

He snorted and shook his head, carelessly tossing aside the tablet computer he’d been reading from.

“Alright, I believe that’s enough for today. I’m starting to fear what I’d read next if I keep going.” Heaving out a sigh and loosening his tie, he went on, “I kinda feel emasculated just reading those, but, yeah, there you go. So, any comments?”

At his question, Rhaegar looked up, eyes glazed; a soft, inquisitive hum on his lips. “On what?”

“On these hundred or so articles I just finished reading. You might recall, one even waxed poetic over your ‘ _hair of spun silver_ ’ and the ‘ _dark abyss of your indigo eyes,'"_  he quipped, injecting a bit of sarcasm in his voice as he looked back at Rhaegar with expectant eyes.

But Rhaegar only frowned in confusion before parroting, “Articles?”

Arthur's eyes narrowed in suspicion as it occurred to him that, perhaps, the effort he’d been exerting this whole time reading those shitty online articles had been for naught.

Slowly, he said, "Uh, yeah?" Then gestured at the tablet computer that lay discarded beside him. “Those articles you _asked me_ to read to you.”

“Oh," Rhaegar mumbled, still looking lost and unfocused; his eyes underlined with dark bags, Arthur noted, a tell-tale sign that he hasn’t had proper sleep for, perhaps, at least a couple of nights. “I did? I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually listening. Can you read them to me aga—?”

“Well, fuck you, you dick!" Arthur straightened in his seat as he threw his friend a look that was both affronted and incredulous. "I’ve been wasting spit and precious time reading all those vomit-inducing articles about your perfect little self after you asked me to – which I still don’t get _why_ because I’m pretty sure that you haven’t yet lost the ability to read despite your obvious sleep deprivation and brain malfunction – and all the while you weren’t even listening? What the hells, man?! Why make me read them to you in the first place?”

Scowling, Arthur waited for Rhaegar’s response, but when none came, his face fell into a flat, unamused mien. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he readied himself to leave.

“You know what, forget it. I’ll just go. Besides, there’s this mountain of things – way more important things – waiting for me back in my office. The ones I should have been doing all along instead of satisfying your every whim.”

He made it a point to put extra emphasis on the words, ‘way more important’, but his passive-aggressive ranting only seemed to sail right over Rhaegar’s head, because the man in question still looked out of it.

He was almost at the door, about to exit Rhaegar’s office when, unable to stop himself despite his annoyance at his distracted friend, he decided to turn back around.

“Alright, what the hells is going on? Rhaegar! Hey!”

He had to clap twice to get Rhaegar’s attention before he finally responded by slowly lifting his unnervingly vacant eyes to him.

Frowning and feeling genuinely worried now, Arthur asked, “Are you okay? You seem off. What’s eating you?”

Rhaegar just lowered his gaze, his face stubbornly etched with that faraway expression, before blinking several times and replying in a halting voice, “It’s… I just… I-I don’t understand…”

He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled hard at the silver strands, looking the perfect picture of frustration and defeat.

Arthur thought that he looked almost pathetic. Along with the dark bags under his eyes, he now also noticed that Rhaegar's hair was not in its typical immaculate style - even before he ran his hand through it - and his suit and dress shirt were both a bit wrinkled. His tie is loose, too, lacking its usual dimple, and… wait, is he actually wearing mismatched socks?

Now, the changes were, in fact, very subtle and not quite noticeable unless you looked hard enough. But seeing these on Rhaegar was nonetheless very disquieting.

Because, well… _it’s Rhaegar_.

They’ve known each other for more than half their lives, but Arthur has never known a day when his friend appeared anything but composed, dignified and thoroughly kempt.

It’s rather uncharacteristic of him to act and look this way. Whatever is bothering him, it seems pretty serious.

Rhaegar’s voice snapped him out of his musings. “What’s wrong with her?”

Arthur frowned, not having any clue as to whom he was referring to. “What’s wrong with whom?”

Rhaegar leant back in his seat, an indignant glint now entering his eyes, as he crossed his legs and steepled his fingers just under his chin in contemplation.

There hung a pause between them, just long enough to make the moment seem more dramatic, before he finally said,

_“What’s wrong with Secretary Stark?”_

 

* * *

 

 

 **_*WGD -_ ** _Westerosi Golden Dragons_

 

_..._

 

So, tell me what you think. :) 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What actually happened before the events in the Prologue...

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

A courteous smile was plastered on Lyanna Stark’s face – bright yet subtle, a look she practiced for years before perfecting – as she expertly put a dimple in Rhaegar Targaryen’s tie and then fastened a gold collar bar underneath it.

“I picked the striped monotone tie to complement your suit jacket, sir,” she explained as she smoothed down the tie against his chest. “I think the colour also gives you a more imposing air and it would go well with the ruby cufflinks and tie clip.” She reached for said items and handed it to him.

He cocked an eyebrow as he put the accessories on and hummed in agreement.

“There, a perfect accent to the whole ensemble,” she opined.

Angling his head a little to the side, he did a final straightening of his whole attire with a minute tug here and a slight brush there.

Finally, he squinted at his reflection in the mirror and voiced his verdict, “Not bad.”

Her practiced smile grew an infinitesimal amount at the curt compliment. “Thank you, sir. Also,” She handed him a sleek tablet computer. “This is your schedule for today.”

He took it and gave the screen a cursory glance before handing it back to her. “Alright. Good.”

Just as she was putting the tablet back in her bag, one of her phones, the one used for work and official matters, started ringing.

Lyanna pulled it out of her pocket and then cast Rhaegar a glance when she saw the caller ID.

“It’s Mr. Dayne. Should I answer the call, sir?”

A small frown appeared on his face before he waved a dismissive hand.

“No need. He’ll probably just remind me of the failed Yi Tish deal and it would be a shame to start a perfectly pleasant morning hearing about some idiot’s incompetence.” He heaved a disappointed sigh. “It’s a sin, really.”

She raised a brow, head tilting inquisitively. “A sin?”

“Murder and theft, those are grievous sins, correct?”

“Of course, sir.”

“But do you know what else I consider equally grievous?” Answering his own question, he held up his thumb and said, “Incompetence.” Then with his forefinger, finished, “And negligence.”

_Hmm… a bit overdramatic but… ok._

Lyanna held her tongue, not bothering to voice her opinion, and simply dipped her head in acquiescence.

“Let me ask you, Ms. Stark, why are there people that’s just hopelessly incompetent?”

She let out an uneasy laugh, not quite sure how to answer that question.

He shook his head, looking as though he just can’t fathom why ineptitude even exists. “Just do the best you can, how hard can that be?”

“It’s just that… well… you see, you’re one of the exceptional few, Mr. Targaryen. Not everyone can be as capable as you.”

He visibly preened at her words despite the hollow voice in which they’d been spoken. “Hmm, well, I’m not going to refute that.”

 _Gods, she’s not getting paid enough for this,_ she thought, before ploughing ahead with a bright smile.

“All my life, I have never met a person that could come close to how competent you are, sir.” She was certainly laying it on thick now. ”You do everything with single-minded determination and perfection that it leaves us ordinary people in awe. It’s an innate ability, I guess. You’re either born that way or not.”

He flashed her a charming, lopsided smile, immensely pleased with her flattery, the disengenuity in her voice seemingly lost on him. 

Her phone dinged then, alerting her to a new message, and Lyanna silently thanked whoever was responsible for the timely interruption. She looked at the screen and saw that the message was apparently from their PR Manager. 

The smile on her face dimmed as she read its content. It seems she’d spoken too soon. This is certainly not something to be thankful for.

_Bloody hells, this is bad…_

Rhaegar must’ve picked up on her shift in demeanor, because he asked, “What is it this time?”

“It’s, um... from Mr. Connington. It appears that we have a bit of a problem, sir. Regarding, er…” She gulped apprehensively, uncertain as to how badly he’d take the news. “I think it would be best if you just read it yourself.”

Lyanna handed him her phone and he took it with a frown.

She watched him as he read the message and, at the precise moment, saw when the gravity of the situation finally sank in. The furrow between his brows deepened and a muscle on his jaw jumped as he gritted his teeth.

A few beats passed, and then, suddenly, his face softened.

 _The calm before the storm_ , Lyanna couldn’t help but think.

He turned to look at her. “Are you ready to go, Ms. Stark?”

“Uh. Y-yes, of course, sir. Anytime you are.”

“Good,” he said lightly and, oddly enough, his tone sent a frisson of unease down her spine. A steely glint entered his eyes. ”Because I just can’t wait to give a certain  _grievous sinner_  a piece of my mind.”

 

* * *

 

Lyanna suppressed a sigh, already anticipating what was about to occur in a short while, as Dragonstone Tower, TGI’s main headquarters, came into view. Just the thought of it – especially the aftermath she’d have to deal with later on – was already giving her a massive headache.

_Why did that geezer have to be such a screwup? More to the point, how did someone like him even last this long in a company like TGI? Oh, well, regardless of her thoughts, that’s soon to be remedied anyhow._

The sleek, black town car rolled to a halt in front of the building’s main entrance where an anxious-looking Jon Connington stood awaiting their arrival. Behind him, Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent, Myles Mooton, Richard Lonmouth and Gerold Hightower – the company’s Marketing Director, HR Director, Business Directors and Head of Security, respectively – are also present, along with a few administrative assistants. 

It wasn’t exactly a surprise to see all of them gathered here to meet them, but it certainly isn’t very reassuring either. Seems that the issue at hand is more dire than what she anticipated.

“We’ve arrived, sir,” she announced and Rhaegar’s eyes, which were closed in meditation the entire car ride, flew open and met hers through the rearview mirror. He held her gaze as if to say,  _Ready for the horror show?_  

She let go of the sigh she’s been holding.  _Ready as I’ll ever be, boss._

The chauffeur got out of the vehicle and quickly walked around to the rear passenger door to pull it open.

She got out of the car first, stepping aside to clear the path for Rhaegar as he, too, got out. And as if on cue, the clouds parted and the sun cast its rays down the moment his feet touched the ground. The light shone upon his face and limned it in gold, making his features look more arresting and, perhaps, even ethereal.

Lyanna has always known that her boss is a beautiful man, but looking at him in this light…  _Wow._

She shook the thought out of her head.  _Goodness, where the hells did that come from?_

They were immediately met by Jon Connington rambling about the current state of things and griping about how the media have been pestering him for Rhaegar’s official statement regarding the issue. And how some of their rivals, the Lannisters in particular, have been taking advantage of their predicament.  _So on and so forth, this and that. Blah, blah, yada, yada…_  Lyanna didn’t even understand half the slew of words coming out of his mouth.

Exasperated at his yapping, Rhaegar gave Jon a long, quelling look, then, in a cold voice, said, “Enough. I’m on my way to have a word with the idiot responsible for all this mess and I’m already worked up as it is. I might end up strangling that man if you keep this up.”

Rightly chastised, Jon’s face reddened, looking a perfect match to his hair. “Sorry. I just,” He cleared his throat. “I got carried away, sir. I’m feeling a bit worked up myself is all.”

“I understand,” he clipped. 

All activities stopped when Rhaegar and his entourage entered the building, a pin-drop silence descending on the huge lobby as every person in it turned their rapt attention to the big boss’ arrival.

Only the clacking of shoes against the marble floor and obsequious ‘Good Morning, sirs’ can be heard echoing around, the employees all but bowing down before him while he merely acknowledged them with a curt nod.

He walked with a confident stride, back straight and face stoic, making quite a forbidding sight.

“We’ll have a more thorough discussion regarding this matter after I'm done dealing with the idiot," he said, addressing Jon, Arthur, Myles, Richard and Gerold. "I’ll be expecting all of you in my office later.” 

They all nodded in assent.

With that, Rhaegar and Lyanna separated from the group and headed directly to the VIP lift that’s already open and waiting for its passengers. They stepped inside and, once settled, Lyanna pushed the number of their intended floor on the button panel.

She could practically feel the barely contained annoyance radiating off of her boss and she had to endure the entire lift ride suffocating in tense silence.

Shortly after, a ding sounded, and Lyanna breathed a sigh of relief as the lift doors opened. She stood straighter, readying herself for the inevitable, before stepping out after Rhaegar and making their way down the hall towards one of the offices there.

Finally reaching the intended office, they stood in front of its door for about a second or two and then, without any warning nor a bat of an eyelash, Rhaegar flung the door wide open with such force that it banged against the wall like a gunshot.

The room’s startled occupant, an old man with a balding head and a scraggly beard, jumped out of his seat at the pair’s emphatic entrance.

“M-Mr. Targaryen, Ms. Stark, wh- I- uh-,” he spluttered as they walked in, dread writ large on his parchment face, evidently aware that his neck is on the chopping block. 

Watching him stumble and bumble as he received them, Lyanna could only think, 

_‘Someone’s future certainly looks bleak.’_

 

* * *

 

Rhaegar was pacing back and forth like a caged beast, spitting curses in High Valyrian every now and then and gesticulating wildly as he chewed out the grievous sinner with a bellowing voice.

He’s been at it for almost half an hour now and Lyanna was starting to pity the old man on the receiving end of his wrath.

_To be fair though, he does deserve the tongue-lashing._

Truth be told, Rhaegar isn’t normally like this. Most of the time, whenever he’s chastising an employee, he’s able to rein in his temper and remain relatively calm. He actually prefers to deal with the people who wronged him with his typical, cold and silent fury.

This was different though. He was well and truly pissed.

And there was only one instance, in all the seven years she’s worked for Rhaegar Targaryen, can Lyanna recall him being this mad. The memory had her smiling and shaking her head in fond remembrance.

_Ah, how far they’ve come…_

“What were you thinking, Pycelle?!” Rhaegar roared, snapping Lyanna out of her woolgathering. “Did it never occur to you that your actions could reflect poorly on the company?! This scandal indirectly tarnishes TGI! And now those thrice-damned company detractors have pounced on it like a pack of hungry dogs thrown a piece of meat!”

“P-please, sir, hear me out!” Pycelle folded his hands and bowed his head in supplication, voice brittle and trembling. “It was just a momentary lapse of judgement! I promise, it won’t happen again!”

Rhaegar’s lip curled in contempt at the grovelling man and muttered under his breath, “Damn right it won’t. I’ll make sure of that.” He rested one hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair in frustration, then called sharply, “Ms. Stark!”

Lyanna was instantly at his side. “Sir.”

“What’s next in my schedule?”

“You have a meeting with the new business associates at nine,” she answered, not even missing a beat.

“At nine?” He checked his watch, then shot Pycelle a scathing glare. “It appears I just wasted too much time on this sorry excuse for a human being.”

Pycelle actually whimpered at that remark.

Rhaegar let out a steadying breath as he looked back at Lyanna, his face now schooled into a calmer mask. He stared at her some more and the tension in his shoulders eased further, her presence a soothing balm.

Half sitting on the front edge of Pycelle’s desk, he pulled out a silver case engraved with a three-headed dragon and a matching lighter from his pocket, took a cigarette from the case, put it in his mouth, and was about to light it when it was very rudely snatched.

Lyanna tutted, her pretty face set in a disapproving frown, as she held up the cigarette between her thumb and forefinger. “You know very well that we have a ‘No Smoking’ policy within the building.”

“Just this once,” he almost whined. “I’m stressed out.”

“With all due respect, sir,  _no_ ,” she said evenly. “Besides, didn’t you tell me that you were gonna quit?”

 _Well, that’s true_ , Rhaegar thought. He has indeed resolved to quit smoking. Partly due to Arthur’s insistent endorsement for healthier living, but mainly because Lyanna’s judging eyes have been driving him up the wall more than usual lately. However, he’s opted not to go cold turkey lest he suffer from severe withdrawal symptoms. Hence, him still bringing a few sticks. He has them ready particularly for instances such as this.

Outwardly, he simply shrugged and then gave it another shot, this time turning on the charm. Gazing deeply into her eyes with those pretty indigo blues, he said in a low voice, “Please?”

But Lyanna was completely unaffected. She merely gave him an impassive look and, with a voice that brooked no argument, repeated, “No.”

He pursed his lips to bite back a smile, trying to appear displeased.

“Why do I even try? It’s not like I can ever win against you,” he mumbled and heaved a sigh, pushing away from the table to stand, but not before giving Pycelle – who was apparently observing their exchange with a curious look – another glare. The man immediately averted his eyes.

“Very well, I’ll go ahead,” Rhaegar told her as he slipped the cigarette case and the lighter back in his pocket. “You can handle the rest, I trust?”

“Certainly, sir.”

He managed to give her a small smile. “Good. Then I’ll see you later.”

“Wait,” Lyanna called just as he was about to leave, extending a hand, palm-up, and giving him a pointed look. “I believe you’re forgetting something.”

Rhaegar immediately understood. Resigned, he can only sigh as he handed her his lighter and cigarette case.

_It seems he’d have to make do with nicotine patches and gums in the future._

And that was that. With nary a backward glance, he strode out of the room.

“Mr. Targaryen, Mr. Targaryen, wait! Please, sir!” Pycelle called out after Rhaegar’s retreating figure, but his desperate plea went unheard. “Please, give me a chance! I swear, I will do so much better! This won’t ever happen again, I promise,” he kept on imploring only for it to fall on deaf ears.

Disheartened at the brush-off, he fell to his knees, his pale, wrinkly cheeks now tear-streaked. His pathetic whimpers echoed around the room as he slumped on the floor, shoulders shaking with sobs.

Lyanna crouched down and put a patronizing hand on the old man’s shoulder, the small contact making her inwardly cringe.

 _He was just that slimy_.

Trying very hard to look commiserating for his plight, she softly said, “Honestly, Mr. Pycelle, what you did was completely irresponsible. First of all, you bungled up the project entrusted to you by Mr. Targaryen himself. It was a complete disaster. And that, as it turned out, is partly the reason why we weren’t able to close the Yi Tish deal. And then,”

At this, she held up a computer tablet to show him a tabloid article with the headline,  _ **'TGI Executive Caught In An Illicit Underground Club!’**_  and below it is a grainy photo of Pycelle exiting said club with two scantily dressed women on each arm.

“Not even a day later, you’re caught doing this. And during work hours besides! You must understand why Mr. Targaryen is not going easy on you. His anger is well within reason. He has a lot on his plate lately and now he has to clean up this mess of your doing on top of everything. The media have been hounding him since this morning after the scandal blew up and we’re all well aware how much he hates dealing with them, right?”

He buried his face in his liver-spotted hands. “I-I don’t know what’s gotten into me, Ms. Stark. I wasn’t myself that day. It’s… It’s like I’ve been possessed by the devil!”

_Yeah, right. 'Not myself’. Go tell it to the Ironborn, old man._

She held back a long-suffering sigh and smiled consolingly instead. “Why don’t you call it a day, Mr. Pycelle? Rest and unwind. Perhaps, it’s just exhaustion from work that’s making you do these things. Use this day off as a time to reflect on what you’ve done. Let this be a lesson and then do better in the future. And I promise, I’ll talk to Mr. Targaryen on your behalf.”

The little pep talk must’ve helped because, by the end of it, Pycelle was looking up at her with those rheumy eyes, glinting as though she hung the moon.

“That is true. I’ve been feeling burned out these past days actually.” He nodded with alacrity. “Yes, yes, you’ve the right of it, Ms. Stark. All this pressure and exhaustion must’ve been what caused me to do something so foolish. I promise, tomorrow, I’ll do so much better. I’ll prove how much I deserve a second chance. Right then,”

Pycelle stood, sniffling and wiping his face, now looking way more optimistic than before as he turned to his voluptuous red-haired assistant, who has been on the sidelines the whole time, silently and helplessly watching the whole drama unfold.

“Ros,” he said, his gaze drifting from her face down to her ample bosom where it inappropriately lingered. A brief grimace flickered on Lyanna’s face.  _Gods, how she wanted to smack the creep upside the head._  “I’ll head home early today. I’ll just see you later, er, I mean, tomorrow. I’ll see you early tomorrow.”

She nodded in answer, biting her lower lip coyly and giving the geezer a meaningful glance. 

Duly dumbfounded, Lyanna's eyes grew wide and darted between the pale raisin and his red-haired assistant.

 _Oh, wow! These two?_  She blinked.  _Why though?_

_And how can Ros even stomach Pycelle? It’s not like he’s got any redeeming quality… except for his money, that is._

_But the girl’s gorgeous. She can do so much better._

_Then again, perhaps, she’s just being too judgmental. Maybe it’s some sort of weird fetish. Or maybe love is just truly blind._

_But still… ew._

The pale raisin smiled creepily at the pretty redhead and, with that leer still on his face, nodded at Lyanna. 

She forced a smile, which honestly looked more like a grimace, in return before he finally left the room.

Looking hesitant, Ros then turned to her and ventured timidly, “So, um, Mr. Pycelle gets to keep his job then?”

Trying to get over what she just witnessed, Lyanna put on an indulgent smile and held up a forefinger to the younger woman, a silent indication for her to hold that thought as she proceeded to make a phone call. And like a switch has been flicked, the smile on her lips vanished, her face suddenly turning serious and ' _business-mode_ ’.

“This is Secretary Stark,” she said to the phone after only two rings, her voice terse and professional. “We’re done here. Send someone up to clear Mr. Pycelle’s desk immediately and make sure to have everything out before Mr. Targaryen returns.”

Hanging up, she looked sagely back at Ros like a wizened woman would a sweet summer child and, as answer to her question, asked rhetorically, “When did Mr. Targaryen ever give anyone a second chance?”

And with that, she left the now unemployed woman looking both awed and terrified at how expeditiously and ruthlessly the whole affair had been dealt with.

 

* * *

 

“The third largest airline in the country, Global Air, is what we’re targeting to acquire this year.”

Arthur gestured at the slide projected on the screen behind him as he delivered his pitch presentation.

“In five years’ time, we’d be able to make it the largest in Westeros. Once the acquisition is approved, apart from the domestic flights, we can then also begin the bidding of contracts for Pentos, Myr and Yi Ti as our preliminary international flights.

“Now, as you can see from the financial statements I’ve prepared, our current legal accounts are as follows,”

He pointed his laser at the data chart shown on the screen.

“The floating assets are at 2.24 billion dragons; the current liabilities, on the other hand, are at 940 million. Therefore, the liquidity ratio is 275%–”

“Two-fifteen point three one nine one four nine,” Rhaegar cut in flatly, the iron tone in his voice ringing clear across the boardroom. 

Confused gazes darted to him. Arthur’s, one of them. He angled his head a little to the side, cupped his ear to hear him more clearly and asked, “Sir?”

Rhaegar almost rolled his eyes at his friend’s display, but nonetheless obliged, “If the assets are at 2.24 billion and the liabilities are at 940 million, shouldn’t the liquidity ratio be 215.319149%?”

“Er, uh. Well, um,” Arthur hastily fumbled for his calculator inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket and, upon finding it, immediately recalculated the figures.

And, of course, being the math genius that he is, Rhaegar was unsurprisingly proven correct with his calculation.

_And he freaking did it in his head, the bastard!_

Arthur can’t help but feel utterly inept in that moment.

“Right. Of course. 215.319149%. Pardon the miscalculation.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Just where did those figures I came up with earlier–”

"Proceed with the acquisition,” Rhaegar once more interrupted, not much bothered by his blunder. He only paused for a beat before adding with finality, “Meeting adjourned.”

Everyone – with the exception of Lyanna and Arthur, who both looked somewhat blasé, since they’re already quite accustomed to Rhaegar’s ways – turned to him looking surprised at how abruptly he concluded the meeting.

Really though, the man has always been known to be the no-nonsense type, so this turn of events shouldn’t have been that much of a shock.

Not the least bit perturbed by the looks thrown his way, Rhaegar stood, brisk and dismissive in his movements, and everyone else, who was still sitting, respectfully rose to their feet as he did.

He strode towards the door completely unconcerned about how he left the room in stunned silence, his ever-competent secretary following close behind.

After that rather dramatic exit, the remaining occupants of the boardroom let out a collective sigh of relief as they slumped down in their seats.

“Whew! That was intense,” a man huffed as the woman on his left seconded, “Gods, I feel like my lifespan has been shortened by five years! I’m telling you, that man’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“I’m twice his age,” the one behind her chimed in. “And yet he scares me more than my own father does!”

Arthur chuckled and shook his head as he listened in on their conversation, finding it somewhat amusing to hear all these highly esteemed men and women whine about Rhaegar’s sternness and looking not unlike little children complaining about their high-handed parents.

But while it’s true that Rhaegar can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, he isn’t really as awful as they’re making him out to be. He’s a genuinely good man underneath all that grim and imperious facade.

Then again, maybe he's just being biased.

Arthur sighed then, finally having had enough of all their grousing, and glanced absently at the door.

His eyes grew wide and his face blanched. “Mr. Targaryen!”

Everyone in the room jumped back to their feet at his exclamation, frantic and mortified at the thought that Rhaegar has returned and most probably heard their disloyal expressions of dissatisfaction.

With dread-filled eyes, they turned to look at the door, expecting to find the intimidating form of their CEO…

Only to find no one there.

 _Damn_ , Arthur thought,  _if his job as TGI’s Marketing Director doesn’t work out, then perhaps he should give acting a shot._

A chortle escaped him. “Oh, sorry, my bad. Must’ve been a trick of the light.”

Unamused grumbles echoed around the room as several scowling faces turned to him.

“Godsdammit, Dayne,” one exclaimed.

And another, “Come on, Arthur, it’s just some harmless bad-mouthing. Give us a break!”

Arthur raised both hands in a conciliatory gesture, trying to look contrite but doing a terrible job of it. “Sorry, couldn’t pass up the chance. I just had to.”

“You had to? I almost pissed my pants, you ass!”

He shrugged as he nonchalantly gathered his things up. “Not gonna lie though, the boss do tend to be a bit too much at times. Then again, we are at the top, so he must be doing something right.”

He was answered with murmurs of grudging assent and a few chagrined faces.

He picked up his briefcase and, with a grin and a jaunty salute, bade them goodbye. “Well then, have a good day, everyone!”

“Loyal to a fault, that man,” the one who had almost pissed his pants muttered crossly just as Arthur exited. “Wouldn’t even let us blow a bit of steam if it’s at his friend’s expense.”

 

* * *

 

 _ **“I’m sorry, but Mr. Targaryen was invited to a fundraising party later this evening and his attendance is expected,“**  _Lyanna said to the phone in fluent High Valyrian as she walked a few steps behind Rhaegar.  ** _"Would it be alright if I call you back tomorrow to reschedule?”_**

She paused to listen to the response, then beamed as the person on the other end of the line agreed.

**_“Great. Thank you… you, too, have a good day! Alright, bye!“_ **

She ended the call and pocketed her phone, hurrying to catch up with Rhaegar as he headed towards the lift.

“I see you’ve improved a lot,” Rhaegar commented once she was at his side.

She reached over and pressed the up button on the wall before looking up at him with a questioning frown. “Sir?”

“Your High Valyrian,” he clarified as the lift doors slid open and they both stepped inside. “It’s significantly improved. During our last trip to Essos, you were still struggling with the language.”

“Ah, yes,” she nodded, smiling and once more reaching over to press their floor on the button panel. “It’s all thanks to you, I must say.”

He hummed in confident agreement. 

“Correct. You became better because of my generosity and my patience to teach you. To be honest, you weren’t exactly a quick study.”

She barely managed to stop herself from scoffing and rolling her eyes at both the conceit and insult in that statement. 

“Generosity?” Not even trying to hide the displeasure and sarcasm in her voice, she continued, “Well, I guess you could call it that. You were very generous in handing out criticisms indeed. The truth is that you never fail to upbraid me whenever I make mistakes, and that is why I always persevere to do better.”

He quirked a brow. “Is that right? Very well, since you find it that motivating, I promise to keep delivering.”

Her lips twitched, fighting between a disgruntled snarl and a curt smile. She managed to force the latter.

“Why, thank you, sir. I appreciate it,” she lied through her teeth.

He flashed her a self-satisfied smirk and Lyanna got the feeling that the bastard was having way too much fun at her expense. It was her eye’s turn to twitch this time.

“In fact, I’ll start now,” he said.

At a loss, she uttered dumbly, “Huh?”

“You should work on your accent. You mispronounced a word.”

 _Oh_. “Which one?”

“You said,  _'Rovēgrie’_.”

“Yes. And?”

“It should be  _'Rōvēgrie’_.”

She frowned. “There’s hardly any difference!”

“Ah, but, you see, the 'o’ should be a bit longer,” he countered coolly. “A mistake is still a mistake no matter how small it is. You should always remember that, Ms. Stark.”

He does have a point, but her nostrils still flared in annoyance.

_What an infuriating man!_

Inwardly, she counted to five and took a steadying breath before pasting on a polite smile to try to appear unruffled. “Fine. If you say so. I’ll fix my accent.”

He only gave a tight-lipped smile and a terse nod in return, though she could clearly see the glimmer of mirth in his eyes.

After that exchange, the lift ride remained quiet until the silence was interrupted by Lyanna’s rumbling stomach.

Rhaegar turned to her, amusement dancing in his eyes, and she had the sudden urge to wipe that look off of his pretty face with a well-placed, stiletto-heeled kick. Fortunately for them both, she managed not to give in to the impulse.

With a pretty blush, she explained demurely instead, “Sorry about that. I, uh, I overslept, so I had to skip breakfast… Oh, that reminds me, I didn’t get to prepare your snacks because of the meeting. Are you hungry?”

He raised a nonchalant hand, waving away her concerns, then folded his arms across his chest. “I’m fine. You know how focused I get when I’m at work. I don’t let myself be bothered by trifling matters such as hun–”

And then he was interrupted by another loud rumble, although this one seemed to have come from his own stomach.

Slowly, his eyes drifted down to it looking dubious that it had been the one that made the noise. It’s almost as if he couldn’t believe that it dared to contradict him.

The confirmation that it was indeed the one that made the noise came in the form of another embarrassing rumble.

Nonplussed, he directed his stare to the floor, his cheeks reddening by the minute.

She cleared her throat to break the awkward silence. 

“I, uh… I’ll prepare the snacks right away once we get to the office.”

He shrugged, affecting supreme indifference, then said, “Yeah, sure.”

Lyanna shifted her attention to the digital floor display overhead, staring fixedly as the numbers ascended, all the while biting the inside of her cheek to keep a straight face and hold back her laughter.  

 

* * *

 

Lyanna was sitting beside Rhaegar in the backseat of his car after having left from the fundraising event they just attended, the chauffeur driving them back to their respective homes, when Rhaegar suddenly said,

“So, I had no idea that you speak Dothraki as well.”

Confused, Lyanna turned to him and asked, “Dothraki?”

“Earlier, I noticed you conversing with some Dothraki men,” He paused before adding in a somewhat sulky voice, “Who, I should point out, were also hitting on you quite blatantly.”

“Oh, those men?” She chuckled. “Come on, I barely managed to learn High Valyrian and Yi Tish after you insisted. Do you really think I’d want to torture myself with another language? It was all just intuition, I guess.”

“Intuition?”

“Yep. Intuition,” she reiterated. “And reading between the lines; understanding a person's tone, their body and facial cues, and all that.“

Gesturing for her to elaborate, he said, "Go on.”

She shrugged. “Well, when one of them offered me a flute of champagne, I figured that it was his way of calling dibs. He obviously wanted the rest of the men to leave, so he can have me all to himself.”

He grumbled at that, looking none too pleased and, dare she say it, _jealous_ , which was honestly a preposterous idea, so she decided to just brush it off. 

”… so, I refused it politely. A subtle turndown which nevertheless put him in his place.“

His lips twitched with evident amusement and approval.

“And when they started talking while looking your way, I thought, they’re most probably complimenting you, so I just kept on smiling and nodding. Then when I felt one of them getting a tad too flirty, I just tucked my hair behind my ear with my left hand.”

He quirked an interested brow. "Left hand?”

Lyanna grinned and held up said hand to show him the gold band on her ring finger. “Quite an effective way to make a guy back off in my experience,“ she said in a conspiratorial voice. "This is the ring I won at TGI’s Team-Building Event last year, do you remember?”

Rhaegar chuckled. “I’m impressed.”

Lyanna mock-gasped. “Was that a compliment I heard just now?”

He cast her a playfully affronted glance. “You make me sound as if I’m stingy with compliments. Well, I’m not. It’s just that I very rarely find opportunities to give them.”

“Because of your lofty standards. Ergo, _stingy with compliments_ ,” she quipped lightheartedly, giving him an arch look. Rhaegar only rolled his eyes and smiled.

A reflective pause settled between them before she ventured, “By the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

He nodded for her to proceed.

Lyanna suddenly felt nervous and it was made apparent when she started to speak. “I- I- well, you see… Mr. Targaryen, I,”

Giving her a sidelong glance, Rhaegar smirked. “You’re stuttering. I haven't heard you stutter in such a long time, Ms. Stark.” His eyes narrowed. “Now, don’t tell me you’ve finally mustered the courage to admit your feelings for me. Not that I can blame you. I mean, I understand, I’m irresistible, but I‘ve always been clear about remaining strictly professional and not letting matters of the heart get—“

“You should start looking for my replacement, sir,” she cut him off.

His playful smirk turned bemused. “What?”

“I’m quitting. I’ll file my formal resignation letter tomorrow. I just needed to tell you now to give you a heads-up—“

His face fell. “Wait, wait, what is this? What's going on? What do you mean you're quitting?”

“It means I’m resigning, Mr. Targaryen.”

He barked out a laugh. "Very funny, Ms. Stark." 

When Lyanna simply gave him a steady gaze, an underlying guilt in those flinty grey eyes, he just knew...

Still, he dared hope. “You’re just pulling my leg, right?”

She sighed. “I’m quite serious, sir. I’ve actually been thinking about this for some time now.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, the apple in his neck bobbing up and down as he took her words in.

"This is all so… sudden," he finally said as he leant back in his seat, trying to appear calm and collected, which was the exact opposite of what he was actually feeling given the circumstances. “I have to ask, what brought this on?”

Lyanna looked away and, after a moment’s pause, replied in a faint voice, “I’m sorry, but, I’m afraid, it’s personal.”

He gave a curt nod. “I respect that.” He was quiet for a while, his eyes focused on the car window as he watched the passing landscape outside. “Well, I gotta say, I didn't see this coming.”

She looked down ruefully at her lap not saying anything.

“And I admit, I don’t like this one bit, but if it’s really what you want and your decision is final, then I suppose, there’s nothing I can do." 

Taking a steadying breath as he tried to maintain his stoicism, he bit the bullet and forced out the words,

"I accept your resignation, Ms. Stark." 

 

* * *

 

That night, Rhaegar went home almost in a dreamlike state, drank a glass of wine, took a shower, drank another glass of wine, went to bed, tossed and turned throughout the night and, at five past two in the morning, sat up, stared at the wall in front of him for a good two minutes, then mumbled to himself,

“What the fuck have I done?”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Ah, there you go. Hope you enjoyed that. :)

As always, feedbacks are very much welcome. As long as they're not rude of course.

 

Anyway, here's a random gif of Lyanna and Rhaegar being silly and cute together. Just because.

...


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